


there's no plan (the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun)

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Frumpkin death (but he's frumpkin so he's fine), Gen, Pre-Series, backstory spoilers through ep 49
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 14:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: Five times Nott and Caleb didn't have a plan, and one time they had a plan that went so wrong.





	there's no plan (the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hozier's No Plan, because I love his new album tbh

_**i.** _

It gets cold at night.  Caleb is used to the cold.  Nott is used to the cold. That’s fine.  

They’re cold at night, each snuggled under ragged, thin blankets.  That’s fine.

It gets colder at night, doesn’t warm up in the day enough to linger until dawn.  That’s not fine.

(Caleb is used to the cold snuggled in a home, dad’s stew in his stomach, afghan made by his mom snug around him keeping him warm.  Caleb is used to cold in a dormitory, warmth stripped away outside of the blip of warmth inside him when he earns praise, but still warm in the physical way.  Caleb is not used to this huddled alone in the woods, a thin fire and a thin blanket barely keeping his fingers feeling.)

(Veth is used to cold as a young girl snuggled in her parent’s house, brothers wrestling in the next room while she tries to sleep.  Veth is used to cold as a grown woman, snuggled under her quilt with her husband’s arms around her, crossing the cold expanse of the room to feed her son.  Nott is not used to any of this; none of those are her memories. Nott remembers crying on the floor of a goblin’s hut.)

They are still new to each other- after escaping, they both wanted to put as much distance between them and the jail as they could and hadn’t thought about much else.  

Caleb’s face is drawn and pale, and Nott is quiet as they walk all day.  They are staring straight ahead, not seeing much.

One foot in front of another in front of another in front of another.  

“We could share,” Nott’s voice is hoarse when they sit down for the night.  “Blankets, I mean.”

“What?” Caleb is focused on the fire.

“We could huddle together and share blankets, to try to be less cold,” Nott says.  “If that’s something you’d be comfortable with. Promise not to steal anything from you.  I’d probably only eat a finger or two.”

Caleb snorts at that.  “If I can keep my fingers, we can share.”

Nott pretends to consider it for a moment or two before nodding.  “You don’t look that tasty.”

“Thank you,” Caleb says.

Nott scoots over to him, pressing herself tentatively against his side.  She’s a tiny ball of warmth, and Caleb scoops her up into his lap. His arms slide around her and she pulls her blanket up over them both.  Her claws settle on his arms.

There is a long pause where they both adjust to this.  Neither of them have been touched with anything nicer than disdain in a long time.  

“Is this okay?” Caleb asks.  

“Yeah, yeah, it’s okay,” Nott says.  

They settle against each other, Nott leaning backwards as Caleb gently rests his chin on the top of her head.  Her ears tickle against his cheeks.

To say it’s warm would be an exaggeration, but it’s nice regardless.

It’s still not warm when they huddle together to fall asleep, but for the first time, they’re not shaking while trying to fall asleep.  Caleb rubs an absent circle in her shoulder as they drift off.

“Goodnight, my friend,” Caleb whispers.

“Goodnight.”

_**ii.** _

Goblin clans are launching attacks in the area.  So they’ve heard. They hook up with a caravan, just to the next town, to keep from being easy prey; Nott keeps watch regardless, and she’s glad she does when screams break the silence of the night.  She darts forward, trying to get a count of how many they’re up against.

It becomes obvious quickly that it’s far more than they could kill.

There's no time to formulate a plan as Caleb wakes up, bleary eyed.

“What's going on?” He asks.  Too loud.

“Goblins,” Nott hisses.

That makes Caleb tense up as he gets to his feet.  “We have to run- o-or fight!”

Nott shakes her head.  “Too many. If we run, they’ll hunt us down for sport, torture us longer.”

She does not want to think about Caleb, tortured.  About Caleb, growing sicker the longer he’s in captivity and his bright eyes turning dull.  About running, about being a distraction so he can get away, about getting caught and-

Over a half dozen goblins approach them, cutting off her spiral thoughts.  If they try to fight them, they'll attract more attention, and they will die or worse.  

Nott grabs her crossbow, looks from the mob to Caleb.  The fear on his face is written plainly, making her feel a bit jittery, too.  There’s movement in his robes- Frumpkin- and an idea hits.

It’s a bad idea, but it’s the only one that she has.

The goblin instincts are always simmering right below the surface, and she lets a goblin snarl snake its way across her face.  She aims more carefully than she’s ever aimed and fires at Caleb.

The bolt slices through the air, and her aim is true.  It strikes Frumpkin, and Caleb stumbles back. He doesn’t look hurt or scared, just confused.  

“Die!” Nott screams.  Her eyes flick over his person, looking for an opening; Frumpkin has poofed, but his cloak has fallen open enough to reveal a book pressed to his side.  She fires again. “Die, human scum.”

Caleb catches on this time and falls to the ground this time, clutching his side.  She hopes that she didn’t miss as she scampers over to him, standing on him possessively as the others approach.  

“My kill!” Nott snarls in goblin as the others approach.  “Go find your own.”

Some of the goblins peel off to search for others to kill, but too many don’t seem convinced.  She clutches a claw against Caleb’s side, relieved when she feels the slightest bit of movement from him.  

The three goblins are still staring at them, judging whether she’s one of them or not, whether Caleb is available for the taking or not.  Stomach churning, Nott presses with her claws, puncturing his side to draw some blood.

Caleb groans in pain, shuddering under her.  His side is bleeding and his face drawn, but he looks dead, so that’s something.

Nott smears the blood- _Caleb’s blood_ \- across her face and bares her teeth at them.  She snarls at them again, and they finally back off.

Her stomach is aching as she wraps her claw around Caleb’s arm and begins to drag him the couple feet towards the tree line.  It’s slow going, but luckily Caleb is all skin and bones, so she manages to make it.

“Stay dead,” she mutters when he opens his eyes, as if he’s about to help.

Nott turns to look back at the caravan, perched protectively on top of Caleb.  (His chest rises, his chest falls, his chest rises, his chest falls, a rhythm that lets her know it’s okay)  The goblins have set fire to the wagons, and the screams of the caravaneers echo in Nott’s ears. It feels too close all of a sudden, too much, and Nott swallows a mouthful of alcohol from her flask.  

She hates goblins, she hates them.  

Nott wipes at her eyes angrily.  She needs to keep an eye out for any approaching goblins.  

* * *

 

Caleb lays in the dirt, pretending to be dead.  He’s worried about Nott- this can’t be easy for her- but he knows that he can’t comfort her right now.  At least his side has stopped bleeding, from what he can tell.

Nott sits on his chest, which Caleb assumes is important, so he appreciates it even though it makes it harder to breathe.  

He waits.  He waits. He waits.  

(He is good at waiting.  Bren had to wait a lot, generally in much more tortuous conditions.  Caleb has that experience, too, but the piercing in his side is nothing compared to the feeling of crystals under his skin or flames licking his body.  He is good at waiting.)

“I’m so sorry, Caleb!” Nott acts following some signal invisible to anyone except her.  She pulls up his shirt enough to clean and bandage his wound. “I didn’t get you with the arrows, did I?  I’m sorry about Frumpkin, but it was the only thing I could think of!”

“What are you apologizing for?” Caleb asks.  He takes her breaking of character as a sign that he no longer has to play dead, so he adjusts himself to be a bit more comfortable.  “I am pretty sure you saved my life again.”

There are fires blazing where the wagons had circled for the night, and a man’s sobs echo in his ears.  He can pick out several dead bodies and others who have severe injuries. Meanwhile, the worst he suffered was a scratch on his side.

Oh, and-!

Caleb pulls out the book that Nott shot.  The bolt got snapped off while she was dragging him, but the book is definitely ruined.

“I’m sorry about the book, too.  I hope it wasn’t important; I’ll get you a replacement!”

“Do not worry.  It’s just a novel,” Caleb sits up now that she seems done bandaging him up.  “Thank you for saving my life. I’m sure it was unpleasant for you, and you certainly did not need to risk yourself for me.”

Nott pulls his shirt back down, patting his side for a moment.  She’s doesn’t quite look at him; he wishes she would, but he understands.  

“It’s almost dawn.  We can start traveling in a few minutes, get some distance from here,” Nott says.  

Caleb follows her.

_**iii.** _

Caleb doesn’t really think about the fact that Nott is a goblin.  Sure, he knows the stories about goblins all being monsters, but it was obvious from his first conversation with Nott that she’s not monstrous.  So he doesn't really think about the fact that Nott is a goblin.

That’s his mistake.

“Hey, hey, lift up your hood.”

Caleb turns around to see a man clutching a broom like a club baring down on Nott.  She winces away, looking down as Caleb starts to make his way to them.

“Is there a problem?” Caleb asks, pushing himself between the man and Nott just as the man reaches for her hood.

“I think that's a goblin,” the man says, pulling his hand back.  “Nasty things. They've been hassling the town, and I'm about ready to hassle one back.”

A few curious townspeople have gathered, and Caleb really doesn't want to have to fight their way out.  Too many children around, too many people to kill cleanly, too big a ruckus.

Caleb takes a few steps back, reaching for Nott.   His fingers brush against the scratchy hood, and it's comfort to know she's there.  

“That's my daughter you're talking about!” Caleb says before he can think of anything else.  He decides to go with it. “How dare you.”

The man is speechless for a moment, and Caleb takes the opportunity to kneel down to Nott’s level.  

“Hey, sweetie, sorry about the mean man,” Caleb says, in a voice mimicking how he’s heard people talk to their children before.  “Let’s get going.”

Nott doesn’t quite meet his eyes, trying to hide her face, and she surprises him by pressing herself into his arms and gripping him tight.  She’s shaking, and Caleb’s arms automatically wrap around her.

Caleb rocks her as he stands up, rubbing her back as that’s another thing he’s seen parents do.  He can’t tell if the shaking is fear or general upset or faked, but either way it helps fuel a genuine anger.

“I hope you’re happy,” Caleb snaps at the man.  “Now, get out of my way! I have to try to comfort my daughter before bedtime.”

“I swear I saw green on her!” the man protests.  “She’s a green girl! With claws! That means goblin!”

“She has a skin condition,” Caleb says, in a faux-whisper.  “One that she’s sensitive about, thank you for bringing it up!”

The man lowers his broom, remorse flashing across his face.  He seems acutely aware of the mob surrounding them; they’re now gossiping about him instead of his intended victim.

“Uh, here, sorry,” the man says, searching in his pockets.  “Some candy for the little one.”

Caleb takes it without another word as he brushes by the man, slipping the candy into Nott’s pocket.  He keeps walking and keeps walking until he can’t feel any more eyes staring intently at them.

“You okay?” Caleb murmurs softly.

There are still people about.

“Good thinking,” Nott says against his neck.  “You’re very smart.”

“Thank you,” Caleb says.  “Just glad we got out of there without a fight.”

Nott stays curled against him until they arrive back at their room at the inn.  As soon as the door thuds shut, she leaps down, adjusting her cloak.

“I’m real sorry about that, Caleb,” Nott says.  “I’ll do better, I promise!”

Caleb presses his lips together for a moment, trying to compose a reply.

“Nott, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.  It’s him who should be sorry for being so nasty to you, just because you’re a goblin,” Caleb finally says.  “You’re not a monster.”

Something about that makes Nott laugh, high pitched and tight.  “Caleb, if you ever see a goblin- that’s not me, I mean- you should kill it.  Kill it right away! Goblins _are_ monsters.”

Caleb frowns a little at that.  He’s never sure how much of her talk on goblins is a reflection of self hatred and how much is a reflection of her clan having treated her poorly.  She’s been secretive about her past- not that he’s pried, one of the reasons why they get along so well is that they don’t pry- but he’s gathered that her clan didn’t treat her well.  

“Either way, it’s not fair that you get painted with that brush,” Caleb says.  

“No, no it’s not,” Nott says, turning away from him.  She reaches for her flask and takes a deep drink. “It doesn’t matter, though.  Nothing can be done right now.”

Caleb swallows around the sudden lump in his throat as he watches her go about her evening routine.  

_**iv.** _

They are in the middle of a fight when it happens.  Too many bandits, too many people baring down on them.  

Caleb feels the arcane energy at his fingertips.  There is only one way to end this quickly. He casts a bright burst of fire at the remaining bandits, and it is his parents instead of bandits, and his vision goes white as he hears the screams, both present and past, rush towards him.

* * *

 

Nott turns to grin at Caleb; he’s so powerful; it’s impressive; it’s _amazing_ ; _he’s amazing_.  She turns to tell him so; he squirms under praise, like it doesn’t quite fit right, like he doesn’t know how to take it, like he doesn’t know if it’s real; maybe if she tells him enough, he will understand that it’s real.

Caleb is staring at the burning bodies.  No trace of victory, no lingering fear, just a stare.  He is blank, suddenly.

“Caleb?” Nott asks.

No answer.

“Shit, did they get you?”

Nott examines him carefully, checking, double checking.  No obvious signs of injury beyond a scrape on his cheek. The bandits didn’t have magic users from what Nott could tell, so it can’t be a spell.

Caleb is still staring at the burning bodies.

Nott doesn’t know what to do.

Caleb is still staring at the burning bodies.

Nott still doesn’t know what to do.

There is another bandit coming.

Nott knows what to do about that, and she places an arrow neatly in the eye.

Caleb is still staring at the burning bodies.

Veth has seen this before.  Not the exact same. But her father-in-law was mauled by a wolf, couldn’t stand to even be around dogs after that.  One time a wolf wandered through town and he couldn’t move.

(She no longer remembers how that story ends- useless)

“Caleb, we need to go somewhere else.  You’re safe, but we need to go somewhere else,” Nott says.  It must be bad for him to keep staring at the burning.

Nott grabs his hand and tugs gently.  Pulls him along, slow like toffee. She doesn’t want to shatter something that shouldn’t be shattered- best to ease him, probably.  

Caleb comes, compliant.  He follows her down the hill a ways, sits nicely when she asks him to.  That is both good and bad.

Good that he is not fighting her.  Good that he can control his body. Bad because when she looks in his eyes, there’s a blankness there that scares her.  Bad that he is not reacting to her at all beyond empty compliance.

Frumpkin isn’t here right now, banished to the netherworld where he comes from, or however the fuck that works, so it’s just her and Caleb as it starts to grow dark.

Luke would be fussy at night and Veth would sing.  Veth was not a good singer according to everyone except Yeza.  Luke would be fussy at night and Veth would sing and Luke would fall asleep.  Veth was not a good singer according to everyone except Yeza and Luke.

Nott the Brave sings a lullaby in the quickening darkness.  Nott the Brave is an even worse singer than Veth Bernatto, according to everyone except Caleb Widogast.

_**v.** _

Nott is thrown in prison.  Again. Sometimes Nott’s fingers are quicker than her brain, and even when they are that quick, they not always quick enough.  

_I have to get out of here_.  she thinks, heart clenching.  

Caleb is outside, will be moving on soon.  They were almost done here; they have entranced the locals with their magic box; the innkeeper is demanding payment that they promise will come _tomorrow_ ; the guards have not been called on them, not yet, but it will happen soon.

This has happened before.  They decided to always leave before the guards got called.  Easier that way.

But when they had to run, Nott was always running, too.  Now, she’s stuck in this stupid cage and Caleb will run and Nott will be in this stupid cage, and Nott rattles the cage bars, but they’re too stupid to move.  

Caleb will be gone.  Her shot at ever being herself will be gone.  (Her friend will be gone, a soft voice says in the back of her brain, her first friend in so long.  No matter who she is, she has never been good at making friends) (The boy with sad eyes that somehow don’t look like eyes she’s known but still remind her of eyes she’s loved more than anything else will be gone)  

Rattles the cage bars again, nothing happens, again.  

Nott looks for a piece of metal, for a crack in the wall, for something to get her out of here and back to Caleb.  Sticks her claw in the lock to see if that works, but it hurts her claw instead.

It is getting dark outside, as often happens, and she throws herself into the corner and slides to the ground.  Her knees pull up to her chest and she holds tight; she wants to throw herself at the bars, but that won’t work.  

Caleb will be gone now.  It’s best to leave in the dark.  She presses her forehead to her knee and stifles a sob.  

Nott is stuck in this cell.  Nott is stuck in this body. (Nott is alone)  (Nott will always be alone)

There’s no plan for this.  

“Nott?”

She looks up and Caleb! is squinting into the cell.  Caleb!

Nott gets to her feet and dashes to the front of the cell.  He came here. _He’s here_.  

“I thought you might need this,” Caleb says, handing her a piece of wire.  “It came in handy the last time.”

Nott fiddles with the lock, and it pops open, and Caleb and Nott and Nott and Caleb run from another town together.

(Veth had always thought she would be alone forever, too, but she was wrong)

_**+1** _

They both have a plan.  They just want to escape from jail, and they figure that it would be easier to do it together.

Then Nott learns that Caleb is a transmutation wizard, that he could one day make her whole again, and she wants that more than anything.  So she keeps traveling with him.

Then Caleb learns that Nott knows how to survive out here, that she has a brighter brain than most people he’s met, quick enough to make sure he has food in his belly.  So he keeps traveling with her.

It’s a business arrangement.

Until it isn’t.  

Caleb is filthy and he smells nasty and he forgets to eat, so Nott has to remind him to, gentle so he doesn’t get embarrassed.  She likes taking care of him; it reminds her that she wasn’t always a monster, that she used to be not without being Nott.

Nott steals compulsively and she drinks even more compulsively.  Caleb picks her up and carries her to bed, tucks her in. She is adorable and strangely kind, and he would like to make sure no harm comes to her.  

It is a business arrangement until it isn't, until Caleb is whispering in her ear that these new people they've met may be nice, but he doesn't trust any of them, except her.   Until Nott grins up at him one night and Caleb realizes with a seize in his chest that if anything happened to her that he would feel suddenly wrong. (He’s felt like that for a while, but he couldn’t admit it.)

Nott is, perhaps, a bit more aware that it isn’t a business arrangement.  She likes Caleb, likes how he treats her, likes not being alone for the first time in so long, likes the competency that comes with caring, as well as the warmth and the reminders of Veth.  That they can be useful for each other is nice, but she would want to stick by Caleb no matter what.

A lot of the time, they don’t have a plan.  Life is super weird in general, and their lives are weirder than most, and neither of them are particularly good at planning.  When they do make a plan, sometimes it goes smoothly, sometimes not, but sometimes it goes gloriously, gloriously wrong.

Like when a broken mother meets a broken son in a jail cell, and start off into the great unknown together.

**Author's Note:**

> Some of these I might expand into their own fics and if I do shhhhh


End file.
